When all else failed
by Garbhan
Summary: Twenty years ago, Philippe Terreville was the European X-COM branch commander. Twenty years ago, he was captured and taken by the alien invasion, all facilitated by the same humanity he had served. His branch destroyed and turned to ashes. Now, X-COM has found and rescued it's commander again. Time for payback, and regain Earth. A goal well beyond reach...
1. Chp 1: Welcome back Commander

**S** tasis was like a very long sleep, a dreamless sleep that all in all didn't feel very restful. And twenty years it state had made the commander fairly weary. Since the rescue operation that had ripped him out of ADVENT arms a few days ago, it all had been fuzzy. It took a good twenty four hours for his vision to stabilize and that same amount of time for limbs and balance to clearly kick off. Add to that a few black out sessions, and three trips to throw up any amount of food exceeding the spoonful. Somehow, the alien machinery had prevented decay in the muscles and it was a matter of agility that kept the commander from his former physical glory. During that time, his medical chief of staff kept a close eye on him, and shadowed his every movement via a south African soldier, which was tiresome for both. After those few days of being presented the various spaces and rooms, departments and sectors of the ship, he finally had the authorization to be left alone and not treated as a crippled child. Regarding the chip taken from his skull, Philippe preferred not being bothered by it right now. All he wanted to know, was if there was any remnant of alien tech inside him, and whether he was one hundred percent master of his thoughts and movements anytime. That known, the technicalities had been ordered to be left for some other time.

Now sitting behind his desk, as the Avenger's thrusters kicked off in the distance, he awaited the Major Sutherland for a situational report of the who's who around the ship. The Scottish officer had been looking after the most parts of the survival of XCOM remnants during these years. Looking at his quarters, he smiled faintly. The furniture was pretty much the same he had in the XCOM Europe HQ. The Vigilo Confido banner was all used up, yet still on the wall. Behind him, was a battered assault rifle, his assault rifle: a modified HK 417, harboring a – broken lensed – holographic sight and doubled magazine. It seemed as though no one here had ever doubted seeing him back here. Even his plaque, with a plasma burned corner was there. Central was to be thanked for keeping the place intact. This man always had a remarkable memory for detail.

"Commander Philippe Terreville"

A Museum. That word stuck in his head when he awoke the following morning, still seated in his chair. The spacious room was a living museum to his name. Like a testament to the pre-war era, when XCOM was an obscure international organization and the threat of xeno lifeform a long forgotten idea from the 60's. Before losing himself more into thoughts of the before times, a few knocks rang on the metallic door.

\- Come in, he ordered calmly.

And in came the Scottish woman, and her battle fatigues, holding some files under her arm, followed by her right arm, the lieutenant Loiselle, also known as "Frenchy". Time hadn't touched them much. Aside from a large scar on her cheek, and a few wrinkles on Loiselle's face, time had left very few visible marks. The commander did study his major for a second, while she stood at attention. Yes, physically, the scar was new, but psychologically, her eyes were immensely colder than twenty years ago. Stern, or empty was the word. Determined, wounded again and again, hurt but never beaten. The last decades must have been far more terrible he'd thought. Suddenly, he noticed she was at attention and "Frenchy" as well.

\- At ease Major. What can I do for you" Axle"?

\- Well commander, as asked, I bring a situational report for the Resistance and our operations.

Loiselle motioned himself without another word and displayed a few files. The Scottish woman waited a few moments before taking a step forward. The Frenchman on the other hand stepped back and headed to the entrance door.

\- The Avenger's potential is barely scratched so far sir. And there are still quite a few cubic meters of spaces we can nick off that wee hull. That and Shen is confident in the power she can dig up.

\- No technical. Not today. Give me the goods, personal wise. Teams, operators, logistics. If we are to act on boots on the ground, the hull is not my main concern.

She smiled, a faint, split second smile, while her eyes went back straight, and off the desk and her commanding officer. She had forgotten, with the passing of time, that there were men amongst leaders, who would put human strength and welfare well before any other. She did remember his teachings, his leadership on and off the battlefield. Souvenirs brought back the major to stand a little straighter, prouder, and fiercer. She missed her commander, as both a leader, and a person. The day he was captured, the weeks, months during which she battled through a winning enemy, trying to find a trace, a faint speck of dust whose name would be her leader's. But then came the losses, the disavowing, the fall and the resilience. The shadow of it all passed through her face, making drop her shoulders. Elizabeth swallowed up the reminiscence.

\- Yes boss. Well, concerning R&D, we have Shen's daughter. Few engineers. The loss of EU XCOM HQ has been quite a blow. After you were… Taken, the assault went on in an effort to annihilate the complete count.

\- I did hear our departments changed lead. So… No R&D.

\- Almost. Concerning our Science and Development... A few months after your disappearance, Doctor Vahlen… Well… Vanished.

\- What?

\- Vanished boss. She was part of a joint effort with XCOM Asia, to find a trace of you. Along with part of her staff and an operator team, Doctor Vahlen went off the reservation. MIA, but now it is safe to assume she is dead. Thanks to efforts pulled, Research has only slowed but not stopped. Dr Tygan is to be commended for it. Upon his defection from ADVENT regime, his insights have boosted a dormant part of the Resistance. We have grown from guerilla cells to full on operational Resistance, with the Avenger. He, and Shen senior.

It was inevitable, the commander knew it. In war, people would disappear, eventually yet certainly, die. But docs and researchers like Vahlen were not the first to come mind when acknowledging loss of personnel. Looking for Doctor Vahlen for so long, with no vital signs, no proof of life seemed foolish. Foolishness had brought him back tough. His elbows on the table, fingers intercrossed, Philippe leaned his noses against his hands.

Continue monitoring for a vital sign. No expeditions on the ground to find Vahlen without my approval. Any signal, message, proof of life comes directly to me. I want to know where she crashed and burned. I don't believe she can come back from the dead. But burial would be nice.

Yes boss.

Also… I'm back, but what of the other branches? North America, South America… Asia?

The major shook her head.

Every other commander… Died before being captured. Shot themselves, or had ordered their troops to do so in the event of a capture. The Europe Branch example spread like wildfire.

And their remnants?

Still in their sectors. They are hiding, like us, but with far less logistics and help. We get a few messages here and there by the wire. Most of the survivors have become instructors to the rebels. Created cells… Contingency's Standard Operating Procedures.

Pangolin Protocol?

Indeed.

Out of this cluster of grim news, it seemed humanity was still a defiant child, unwilling to bend and fully determined to fight back tyranny and oppression. The commander leaned back in his chair, pondering all this newly acquired information. He would need a plan. A large scale, big picture one. First off there was a need for intelligence, pure, raw material without which he could take no decisions, have no viable war effort.

The Resistance? He finally asked after a few seconds of deep thought.

The French officer, silent until then, laid a few aerial pictures of what looked like a slum, hidden under camouflaged nets and trees. Pointing to some, his thick French accent slice the rustle of paper.

Resistance is struggling. Mostly disrupting the convoys, harassing checkpoints, stealing from ADVENT whenever opportunities come. They built themselves a few havens. We are still discovering new ones during our flights. In the majority, they're secluded, and what they manage to take from the enemy, suffices to keep them alive. Not much more.

That's a radio antenna correct?

Yes sir, answered the lieutenant. This is Croatoan haven. We have them into our "allies" section. The radio pole is joint effort, and we get daily reports. It is not much, but morale is lifted on both our sides by having us in the sky, and them on the ground.

Well then… We need a bigger broadcast signal, and bring together havens. Keep them small, and independent. But they must know they are not alone. Let me think about this. Bring staff tomorrow, eight hundred, CIC. We need a plan… Anything else? How about our troops?

Well… Not many veterans boss, started Elizabeth. We have a few, mostly the Aces, tough Clubs is a newcomer for you. "Superman" is still here, mostly shooting instructor. We have many rookies, a fair number of seasoned soldiers… But operators, military educated is low. Central and us veterans have kept a tight ship, discipline… So far. Twenty years is a very long time boss.

He nodded. Twenty years. That number was just abysmal. Two decades of survival, kicked off less than five ago thanks to the Avenger.

Well then… I guess first orders will be instruction, warfare education and prep'. "Axle", in twenty four hours from now, I want all veterans in whatever bay, or area we can use to set up a program. Do we have any fights so far? How about skyrangers?

Three skyrangers, one operational. One is being revised, and the last one… Well… It takes dust while we muster for parts. Hard one. We have enough pilots. For total personnel, we have thirty six airmen, twelve onboard security, and…

Twenty seven operators, from rookies to us, sir, completed the Lieutenant.

Fine. Anything else?

After a small silence, both officers responded no and were dismissed. When leaving tough, Sutherland laid a hand on the door, head tilted back on Philippe.

Welcome back Phil, she smiled. Good to see you back.

He nodded, with a similar smile and she left, the door sliding back shut. This was going to be hard, long, and exhausting war XCOM was going to have. And was it worth it? Was ADVENT going to bend a knee? Twenty years ago, what had faced humanity was all a vanguard? The knowledge of Earth being under the tight grasp of this new worldwide government was scary. But on reports and public news, it appeared humanity was living decently. Gene therapy seemed to have helped. There was a cost to it, no discussion, and the Commander was still going to identify it.

What if… What if humanity was better off with this? Was the la Hague Tribunal in the right? Was diplomatic way a way that could have led to peaceful introductions?

Somewhere, in the back end of his mind, a voice awoke.

"Fight. Fight, rise and triumph."

Humanity deserved a fight. X-COM was to deliver the champion.


	2. Chp 2: Back in the saddle

Chapter 2 : Saddles for the knights

The day, evening that followed his interview with "Axle", Phillipe sketched across and along his mind, the necessities, the missions, the ins and outs of being back in charge of an X-COM branch. When the morning call for shifts was heard, he awoke from his chair again.

 _I gotta start sleeping back into this bed_ he thought, rubbing his face, standing back up.

Shaved, face rinsed, he turned back to his office, and gathered the bands of paper on which he had laid down his ideas, plans and program. Once out, he found himself lost. Again. His mind was still set on the old HQ architecture, and his quarters being so very close to the ones pre-capture, he had forgotten all about the Avenger. Which, by the way, was having a quiet flight. Straight forward seemed like a good idea to march to, and so he launched. Needless to say, it took the commander five minutes to find the elevators, in which a man in fatigues was already in. He did note that the man in question, bearing a light beard, a boonie hat with a camouflage pattern unknown to him, simply greeted him by:

Hi, he smiled. _Où don'?_ (Where to?) he asked hand standing to press a button.

Hello… War room.

Uh. Brief room ok.

And down they went, with no other word. While detailing the man, Philippe noticed how neat his shoes looked, or at least what came out from under his fatigues. His rifle was held on his back, a magazine feeding it. Before he had time to muster a question, the doors opened and he was expected to step down.

Second to the left. Big wooden door… Sir.

The commander stepped down, his work-set mind motioning him. He had had to have a talk with the officers around to reinstate some formal discipline.

 _Have we become some kind of mercenary-like outfit?_

Resistance or not, hierarchy was to be upheld, and chain of command with it. Somehow, if Axle and Central had indeed held the vessel so long, it seemed odd that the standards dating pre-invasion, were shut down. While grinding these thoughts, he arrived at the war room, which he opened wide. The place looked deserted, abandoned. Clean, surely, but unused for sure. No matter, Philippe expressly taped and hanged his schemes on the walls, and went through the files the Major had left for him. So far, six veterans, twelve "seasoned" survivors, like he chose to call then, and nine rookies. The file also noted that six more were to join in the next stop in Southern Finland.

Amongst the proven to be operators, a few had military background, especially one. Swiss army officer when all went down. Notes showed him a very sturdy aptitude to infiltration and guerilla warfare. Some happened to be convicts, freed and willing. Others just by standers joining a cause and having one heck of an attitude towards the invader. All in all, it was a challenge. But had to be seen the level of competence they had attained while he was out cold in the ADVENT facilities. Turning his wrist to his eye-level, the commander then realized he didn't have watch no more. An obstacle he should remedy fast, for time is of the essence in all circumstance, especially when in combat.

Unbothered, he was able to prepare the briefing, until an airwoman knocked and came in, hand on her holster. Watching the commander, and the room, she seemed curious, yet unsure of what to do with the commander. Somehow, his face struck her and she came to attention.

Sir, corporal Dietrich. Sorry to bother you sir, but it is past time for lunch and Major Sutherland is looking for you.

Lunch… Three meals a day ratio did strike the commander. If the X-Com machine was able to maintain a three meal a day, maybe hope was being negative as to the situation.

Fine, he answered, lowering his pen. Would you mind leading me to the mess hall? I am still quite lost in this… Place.

Ay ay sir, she smiled despite her tries not to. Follow me.

While walking, the corporal kept talking, as to how navigation was actually fairly logic, inside the Avenger. Signs, and color coded lines did in fact, when decrypted, help to the commander's comprehension. When arriving to the mess, she pointed to the far left of the room, where "Axle" was sitting, visibly concentrated on a man who meant nothing to the commander yet.

If need be Commander… the airwoman tempted, I'd be glad to be your navigator aboard. That is until you have your marks.

For an instant, Philippe looked at her, and how she was ill eased, although maintaining a military form.

Then Dietrich, rendez-vous point here in thirty minutes. Thank you for the offer.

Her salute was a tad wobbly, but willful, and she went on to help herself a plate, while the commander went to join the Scottish officer. When she spotted him she sprang to her feet.

Everybody up! Commander on deck she called, her voice booming over any other sound. Attention!

And everyone fell to attention, with some discrepancies as to the speed and form for some. The act surprised the commander. He would have thought encountering a ill equipped and trained outfit of fighters, with no military education other than point and shoot. But, as he watched the mess, he did notice everyone was wearing a jumpsuit, with different colors, surely matching their area of expertise. He was pleased. The military officer he once was, twenty years ago, was pleased.

As your were, he finally let out through the silence, with a faint lopsided smile to "Axle".

As he approached the table, the Scottish woman stood back up, along with the others from her table.. All saluted, greeting the commander. The man he didn't recognize was the one from the elevator.

Hello commander, she started. You know "Superman", she pointed to the man across her left, and "Frenchy" of course. This is "Gray".

He shook hands with each and other, saluting them.

Yes, I think we've met…

Gray is somewhat of a tactical know-how, especially infiltration and guerilla warfare.

Right.

Welcome aboard I guess then, the man smiled. Coffee?

Coffee… That idea illuminated something inside Philippe. Even tough stasis did not create any cravings, the thought of that bitter boiling juice running through is throat again did indeed rejoice. That is when he realized he was until now, sleeping late and therefore only having two meals a day, and in the infirmary.

Oh… Yeah. Coffee. Where to?

Don't bother sir, I'll get it.

And off he went, at a fair pace, back before the commander could properly sit down next to "Axle" who scooted to the side. He laid the metallic mug with two sugars on the side and a spoon before sitting himself across.

So… How's it out of the incubation tank heh?

He eyeballed the grinning man, then "Axle" who offered no help this time.

It's… It's big. And new.

Yeah, brave new world heh "Paladin", joked the man to his right, before chugging some black steaming coffee down his throat. Forgive "Gray", he might be ex-military, but I guess down in Switzerland, formal attitude is a bit overseen during training. We got the memo concerning this afternoon. What d'ya have in mind?

Well, I need to know how badly we're trained, fed intel, and kept alive. Then devise a change of course. Turn this boat around.

Cool. Will do.

You don't look two decades in a test tube boss, joked the Scottish officer. Still head in the game.

I'll admit nothing is left – aside you old wolves – from the… Well the past. But I guess the soldier in me soldiers on. The only way I know. I am still lost here. I'm having privat.. corporal Dietrich as my stick to walk around for now.

"Axle" leaned, to spot the said airwoman and nodded.

I'll have retasked then. I don't want a gap in our security.

Which by the way is our next subject. I want to be up to speed on that too.

Yes boss. "Frenchy" will provide that when suitable.

The American took off, followed by "Gray", leaving "Axle" "Frenchy" and the commander to their table alone. He asked what program was set for the day, to which he learned that a message from the Resistance was being decrypted as they spoke, meaning there would be a departure soon enough. To that, Philippe ordered to be informed of each message, being fit enough to take full on his duties as commander, if there was no objection by his replacement.

Oh no boss, now that's a news I'm more than wee bit happy to hear! Could ya tell it again? So I could record it?

Damn, twenty years later, and that accent didn't get old. The relationship didn't get old. Neither with Loiselle. The Frenchman was still keeping to himself, shadowing "Axle" in her every move. Coffee down, trays away, Philippe looked for his appointed guide through the Avenger, and spotted that black haired woman standing right beside him.

Where to commander? She asked with a repressed prided smile.

Command Center. I need to see it in action. And do my duties.

Got it.

And she led the way, again, pointing out how subtle panels showed the way, and that in no time he would be able to navigate through and across with ease. She even joked about not being useful very long in the future. To which he replied that she had better duties than be a guide, and was as this instant reassigned as personal ordinance of his until further notice.

Will do commander.

It was an order corporal. Not an invitation, corrected Philippe, with a sly smile.

To her unsure look, he assured her she would get used to his tone and somewhat special humor. With that, both of them landed in the Tactical Operations Command. A copy of standard X-Com HQ TOC, with the holographic representation of Earth. Adjacent, was the Command Center. Glass walls, spacious enough to convey a crises meeting around an elongated wooden table and around sixteen chairs, a few more against the glass. That was new. In the center of the table, a holographic projector and a pair of consoles to control it, and behind what was surely his chair, a panel taking the whole upper side of the wall, acting as screen.

We… haven't used this room much, admitted Dietrich. Last time I saw someone, was Major Sutherland, right before the team came to fetch you sir.

Well… I hope we have lollygagging airmen to dust and make ready the whole place. This is going to be a bumpy ride in which I need to lead a few meetings.

He pointed at the glass.

Bullet proof?

Yes sir! Up to couple of .50 caliber shots. And opacity can be…

She flew past him, and tried the console. Moments later, the glass seemed an inch thicker.

Well… You can see the TOC, but they can't see us. There are also shutters. For complete isolation. The room is sound proof… If you were to have a meeting in the middle of a gunfight, she joked… Or busy operation.

These new sets were gadgets. They usually were, for privacy was something he did not have since officer's school. Yet again, that was…

 _Thirty years ago. Christ, I'm 54. Am I?_

So far, his reflection was good old 34 years old. But strictly speaking, it wasn't the case. This was exactly the thinking abyss he didn't to fall into. The reason why he thrived for hard work, and not taking time to rest more than the minimum needed. Somehow, avoiding the mind twisters, the awkwardness of being brought back from the near dead… Was the answer for now.

Commander?

He came back from his reverie, and gestured to the corporal to set the windows back normal.

Fine, thank you Dietrich. I'll be going to the TOC. I heard there was a mission to take place.

Motioning to open the door, the corporal to his heels, Philippe opened and closed again the door, staring right at into the woman's gaze.

Microphones?

N… No commander.

Good. Do you know the rules of my personal staff?

Er.. Huh. No commander.

She took a slight step back, noticing how physically close she had gone, thinking to shadow him as he walked out.

First rule: What is said and done stays between you and me. Utter secrecy. I want no one to know neither schedule, actions, plans or even what I have for lunch. Need to know basis. The rest will follow.

He pointed at her, his face dropping a little.

Loud and… Sir.

Most excellent. Until instructed otherwise, you'll have the cabin adjacent my quarters. While I'm in the TOC, get moving.

He stepped out, and again, caught a glimpse of pride and pure joy in the corporal's eyes. As he came forward into the large room, all stepped up into attention, slowly, to the barking of Central Officer Bradford.

Hello Commander. Visits are good?

Excellent John. As you were. No need to interrupt operations when I come in this room.

Will do.

Feed me now John, he went on, reaching an extended arm for a quick handshake. What's the move brewing around here?

Well, you're not the only one being held captive. A few weeks ago, a resistance cell in Glasgow was raided. We arrived too late, and… Well we found a couple of survivors just hours ago. Right now, we're hunting the man who sold them out. We got a lead and a location.

Great. Skyranger left?

Just did. They'll arrive in an hour or so.

Ok. Get me a headset to speak with the team, brief me up on the team, terrain, and… Well… All this new tech.

He gestured to the monitors. They were not what he knew back twenty years ago. And it did take the most from the hour to introduce the ins and outs of the new TOC. The imagery from each operative was displayed, picture and heartbeat monitor. All in all, changes were small, but the efficiency had been double if not more. From the Avenger, Philippe felt almost downrange with the team. And the feeling was nice.

Back in the saddle Commander, asked Bradford with a lopsided smile

He handed the desired headset to a smiling Philippe ever so eager. To put it and adjust it.

The only place I'd be is here, or in the fray John. Give me names, who's down there?

Well… Team Auroch. Lead and sharpshooter you know; "Superman". Ranger you don't, "Gray".

Yeah, we met this morning. Swiss guy right?

On point. He's pointman, behind you got "Blackbeard" as support, "babayega" on Breach and assault, "Crypto" as tech nerd… And "Quinn" on combat medic. You might know her… kinda.

He looked at the picture of said team medic, then at Bradford, baffled.

Yeah, "Axle" did have family. That's her little niece. Amber Sutherland. Her sister's here too. Sharpshooter.

Good. ETA?

Should be arriving anytime.

Philippe turned to the room, which was half busy, half eyeing him and Bradford.

Hello everyone, he started, turning to the room, his microphone on loudspeaker. As most of you must have heard through every back channel an outfit can have… I am Philippe Terreville. Some of you might have heard "Paladin". I am formally taking command of this ship, crew and assignments. For now, we have a rescue mission at hands. So, all hands on deck, game face on… It's havoc time.

The commander turned back to the screen. He watched, as the ship approached his destination: the outskirts of a city which read "Glasgow" but resembled nothing to his memories. He made a personal note to be in the streets someday, see for himself the damage done, the way ADVENT was lobotomizing humanity into a falsely looking, faceless utopia. Back straight, the Geosphere turned into a three dimensional layout of the team's surroundings.

Team Auroch, this is Paladin. I'll be your tactical advisor today, and as of now, and Commander until further notice.


	3. Chp 3: Muddy boots know best

**D** own in the hull, everyone was already checking – again – their gear, weapon, and neighbor's gear. David "Superman" Matthews was reading again his mission orders on the datapad. The redhead to his right was reviewing her medical pouch, her headlamp distributing a red halo on and in her bag. Across, was a tall, muscular, razor shape faced man. Almost bald, the exception of a long blond braid, bare-arms, "Blackbeard" was making his gloves tighter, his gear closer to skin. The Japanese technician was, per usual, flicking his lighter, impatient to step off and light himself a cigarette. Anxious, he stared at the red light flooding the hull.

\- Don't worry "Crypto", when ramp goes down, you can whiff a whole carton if you have time, shouted the team leader.

\- I should install ventilation, he simply replied with a nervous smile.

The pilot flicked the red light twice, signaling the soon to be arrival, and "Superman" held two fingers up high for all to see. He was about to give final orders, when a familiar voice came in the team's headset.

\- Team Auroch, this is "Paladin". I'll be your tactical advisor today and as of now.

While most looked at each other with questioned looks, the team leader smiled. Somewhere, somehow, twenty years had flown by, and hearing the Commander's voice declaring he was in charge was like coming back home. And just when he leaned forward, the hull light flashed green, the thrusters kicked on brakes. The ramp opened, and with it, ropes dropped to the ground. Superman gestured to the team to equip the thick gloves, before leaping off the ship, to the rope and landing on the ground. Soon followed by the rest of team, every member sprinted a few meters away, took an angle to cover.

\- Fireband; all boots on the ground, stated the sharpshooter adjusting his jungle hat.

\- Copy Auroch, see you on the other side.

\- Auroch, you have two blocks to cover before reaching city, and one more until last known cell placement, started the Commander.

\- Any advice, asked "Superman"?

\- Snatch 'n' grab. I'll be looking for an EVAC on a roof if I were you.

\- Will do.

The fire team motioned. Gray, being lightly geared up, went several meters before the rest of the team. That late at night, it was no surprise no one opened the door to the ruckus of thrusters. Usually such noises meant ADVENT peacekeeping troops, therefore better not be up and awake at that time.

\- Auroch, we're picking up a convoy, opposite of town, coming your way. Three escorts, one wagon. Must be your Package taxi. ETA twenty minutes. That means you have twelve.

\- Who is that voice damn it, asked the Russian woman, going over a fence. He sounds arrogant.

\- That… Is the Commander, answered Superman.

\- You mean, the test tube Central and Axle took from ADVENT? Standing already?

\- Guess so. Used to be a tough one. Trust the voice baba. And stay sharp, he's got the eye.

Gray, a little further, motioned to stop, raising his hand.

\- I got patrol. Two and officer, twenty meters East. Guess they're knocking doors.

\- Good. Overwatch with Blackbeard. Rest of y'a pass through. Don't need no attention just yet.

The obstacle seemed easy the enough, the patrol being completely oblivious to the presence of the commando, never was wiser after their passage. The city was fairly calm, and only two cars were seen moving, and or still hot. A little nightlife next to a bar was all to be seen. Superman stepped up to the pointman's level, putting a hand on his shoulder.

\- Feed me Gray.

\- Well… This building is for office use. Good vantage point. There's an exterior ladder. I guess you'd find a similar one on dark face. We could go around… Or top like you. Not much activity.

\- Right. You and Crypto first. I follow. Quinn, Blackbeard and Baba close. Heard this kiddo's?

While the first duo leaped across the road, the Viking looking operator, set his machinegun on the ground, prone, next to Babayega who had her rifle opposite from him. Blackbeard sensed the unease that was going through the team, due to this voice coming from the past, giving them tactical awareness boost. For the past year or so the Avenger program had been kicked in and launched, Central had given some tactical cues. But for the most part, the team on the ground was left to be responsible of the pointman's and leader's decisions. Not that it felt wrong, simply new and all needed to accommodate. Maybe, just maybe, the commander brought back from the past could turn some tides.

\- Road checked. Swing back kids.

Lifting his weight, gear and weapon, the Norwegian man sighed. He loved that weapon, but he'd be damned if it didn't feel heavier after every stop. And the group moved on until arrival to the rooftop of the second building. Curfew was still in effect in this area, making the urban part quite easy for one. It was a matter of dodging scanners and patrols, nothing very fancy. Yet it took only a sound too loud or movements to sharp to blow the infiltration sky high.

\- It's a good thing that the scare tactics worked so well, commented Central, his arms crossed. Makes it somehow easier to move around all geared up.

Central glanced towards the commander, and smiled a little. Philippe had taken his usual dubious pose: his left arm crossed his stomach, ended by a fist, on which rested is right elbow. Tapping his lips lightly with his index, his eyes were going from one camera feed to another, team's or aerial. Around them, the TOC was quiet, few words were spoken,

\- You don't agree commander…

\- No. They have scanners. Patrols. I see patrol vehicles, two. And no one got worried by the Skyranger fly-by. This ain't right. This convoy? Smokes and mirrors. That guy is what already? Broker? He's got to know being seen is being told on. How can we know they're not fortifying?

\- Well, Skyranger thrusters are similar to the ADVENT transport Vertical Take Off Landing ships. Untrained ears… Well, they'll be the same.

\- Still. No Skyranger evacuation less than three kilometers.

\- And how are they supposed to take the HVT then? Drag him?

\- Carry him. Steal a car, a van. They know this kind of tool of trade?

\- Well… Not sure.

\- Auroch, this is Paladin. Listen close. Evac will not be on site, except if you snatch and grab in two minutes…

Ileana looked at the team leader, concerned. Silently she made her gremlin take off.

\- Baba, keep cool, whispered "Superman". Copy all Paladin. Can't promise we got a cat burglar with us. Any volunteers?

\- Gray. I can hotwire but I'll need a little time.

\- Got all you need if you take plan B Gray, replied the commander.

Superman pondered three seconds his options, readjusting his scope.

\- Snatch and grab team. Paladin, Firebrand, Extract in fifty five seconds, my current. I got overwatch with Blackbeard, we blast in twenty. Gray on point with Crypto. Quinn you got babysitting. We're wasting time. Beard breach.

\- Rock n roll people, laughed the Norwegian operator, grabbing his grenade launcher.

What was a quiet night turned rapidly into a full-on mayhem. When the lobbed grenade hit the doorframe, it tore them apart in a literal bang and flames. Already sprinting inside, the Swiss ranger primed his shotgun, and dashed through the smoke, while a Gremlin hovered above his head.

\- Gray, hammered the Russian engineer, sixty degrees right, getting up. Laying one next to target.

As he was told, he unloaded a single shot, split seconds before his vision was set on the target. As a result, only a flying body was on the dangerous end of the muzzle. Dashing by his side, was "Quinn", leaping like a panther, throwing her rifle in her back. Touching the floor again, one knee down, she jammed here extended other leg right in the face of the struggling shape. Still in momentum, she swung as to ride the poor sod, and went on delivering a backhanded blow to the face. Rapidly, she turned the man on his stomach and proceeded to tie him, hands in the back.

\- Crypto! A hand to lift jelly beans there.

\- Coming!

Jogging, although less agile than the first two, the smoking half bald operator came to lift the unconscious fellow on the shoulders of "Quinn".

\- That man is heavy!

\- Well quit smoking you'll have time to stay in shape, joked the combat medic.

\- You'll laugh it up later kids, cut the marksman. Same way back we got one minute and a half.

Crypto came out first, throwing a smoke grenade on the road, followed by "Quinn" and "Gray", under the surveillance of "Babayega" and her assault rifle. Arriving the building's wall, a problem popped inside the Scottish operator's mind.

\- Now that wee baby ain't going to get up himself is he now? Not going up the gutter with him.

Gray turned to the unconscious man. He looked average build, with some formal clothes. Evaluating his weight, he shifted against Sutherland.

\- Gimme "Quinn", I'll carry sleeping beauty.

\- Ay, you a gentleman now, she joke. All yours deary.

Sliding away, leaving the hostage to the Swiss man, the young Sutherland ran faster than a cat up the ladder, followed by "Gray", huffing and puffing doing the same. Upon arriving, he felt the weight lift, as "Babayega" pulled to herself the target. He smiled, seeing how their mission was being passed from hand to hand. Without any waste of time, Crypto, who was right behind the Ranger, grabbed his flare pistol and shot it in the air.

\- Auroch, this is "Paladin". QRF is already here. Seems local station was very close. Hold for Firebrand. ETA thirty seconds, will push it three minutes. Mission shift; repel enemy QRF before boarding Firebrand. Firebrand how copy? Auroch how copy?

\- Firebrand… Well copy sir. Will hold off. But will arrive on fumes.

\- Honest day of work Firebrand, responded the commander, a smile to the multiple screens.

\- Auroch… Exhalted "Superman", Auroch hard copy. Hold and nuke.

\- Y'all got your assignments. Auroch, show hell.

Back on the Avenger, there was a growing activity. Leaning on the geosphere's railguard, both hands tightly seizing the metal tube, the commander was stern looking. This mission had gone almost smooth. Execution wise the operators seemed top notch. The situation, though, was a whole world different. Central came behind Philippe, holding a file.

\- Sir. There are several ADVENT communications. Word "heavy" is used many times. I think they're sending more than troopers.

\- Well then, that QRF better be dealt with swiftly.

He turned around, reassuming his thinking pose, right finger on lips, elbow rested on left fist, arm crossed.

\- Firebrand got any weapons?

\- No sir.

\- Twenty years, and my order to outfit Skyrangers with light weapons has still not been done. Flares?

\- Yes sir.

\- Then, Firebrand swoops in, low altitude, flares up. That'll spook. One pass, he mimicked, sharp hook, and load team with HVT. Loading time ten seconds.

\- That's short.

It was. It was a short call. Phillipe hoped that these two decades had not softened his team leader and sharpshooter. From the little he had seen, training was harsh and made through combat experience. It was the amongst the best way to become a veteran, but toll was high in casualties. He wasn't on the ground, with the team. Only camera feed, radio chatter and a few aerial imagery connected him to the present situation.

Ten seconds to board a Skyranger was short, and under fire it was even worse. Back in the day, before being assigned in X-COM, there had been a couple of times during which there were short calls to make an exfil. He didn't know the team well enough to assess their capability, therefore, the small window he had created was a hard call to ask from the ground team.

\- Central. How important is this HVT?

\- Sir… He is an intel broker. He and his team of three to five, has cost the resistance a couple of safe havens.

\- So… War prisoner?

\- Yeah. He might also lead us to the rest of his spy ring.

\- Screw him. We'll look into his friends. We know any?

\- Ay sir. One.

Muddy boots knew best about local weather.

Back on the roof top, street fight was getting intense. Hunkered behind cover, "Superman" was listening to the new orders, while on his left, "Babayega" was pouring lead downhill. And so was the whole team, "Gray" aside, who had a leg on each side of the hostage's body, frisking him thoroughly, and throwing away his electronics. Crypto and Quinn were opposite side of the building, making sure no one would flank them or sneak around.

\- Will do Commander, answered bitterly the sniper, looking over to Gray.

\- Will what, shouted the Russian woman, changing magazine.

\- Will do. You know. Following orders. Things we try to teach you people. Gray, wake that traitor up.

The ranger obeyed and slapped twice the hostage who gasped for air, screaming in surprise. "Superman" kneeled over him, his sidearm locked on his forehead.

\- My handler says you're not worth the trouble. What do you think? You'd talk?

He cocked the gun, to the bewildered and panicked tied man on the muzzle side.

\- Talk fast meatsack! What use are you to me alive?

\- I… I… I can tell which haven is targeted!

\- Faster!

As he shouted, Firebrand made a pass right over their heads, unleashing a dozen flares as he did. The roar of the engines was deafening, and was so close, every team member was certain the building trembled. As for the High Value Target, well, he was panicked and didn't move a muscle anymore. Thinking fast, and rehearing the orders received by the Commander. Grabbing his flare pistol, he shot the blue one in the air.

\- Gray, mark the roof. Team, regroup tight. Last stand on roof kids. Smoke the place, and when ramp opens, you'll already be inside. Blackbeard and Baba ramp duty. Rest sprint. Ready in thirty seconds.

A couple of seconds later, "Gray" called out the marked Landing Zone, while the whole group swarmed into defensive positions. The team leader holstered back his gun, leaving the babysitting back to "Gray". A hunch traversed him. A jolt of electricity came through his spine, and so he complied to his instincts. His Marksman rifle back up, he scanned the East side buildings, right when Firebrand called out his arrival in his back. The ramp was still two meters high, The designated ramp duty operators dashed to grip their sectors. "Superman" kept scanning the building until he saw him. Prone and against a ventilation shaft, was a muzzle. Immediately, somehow, with great speed, Captain Matthews adjusted his aim and shot a first, and second shot. A little low, and then on point. He didn't manage to hit the target, but was close enough to make that sneaky ambusher get down for cover. He spun on himself, and ran to the opened ramp, while his team was boarding their last member. Still a few paces away, he called out to the pilot to take off, making his last leap a shaky one, the ramp closing as he landed. As his foot caught the metallic pathway, the rest of the body curled as to perform a clumsy combat roll. Against the hull, a few laser shots resonated on the alloy.

Back in the TOC, Philippe was still as a statue. And until Firebrand gave the all clear, not a muscle moved. Everyone was looking, silent, at the body cameras, listened the radio chatter, which was non-existent, except for a med-check from Quinn, making sure no one was losing blood. Some looked at the Commander, like Central. When finally the "all clear" came up, a few minutes later, "Paladin" smiled, his head falling forward, making him look like nodding. And in a certain way, he was. The TOC cheered and a few clapped for an instant.

\- Pretty intense eh, commander, asked Central.

\- Yeah well… When was easy day my friend.

\- Yesterday, chanted back the gray-haired officer.

Philippe nodded, and grabbed his microphone

\- All right Auroch, this is Paladin. Good exfil, good job. Prepare notes, prepare impressions. After Action will be one hour after landing. Get chow, get soap. Paladin out.


End file.
